


Beat of My Heart

by yamiaainferno



Series: Heartless Series [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Mind Control, Villain Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-07-07 21:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15916338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamiaainferno/pseuds/yamiaainferno
Summary: Prince Virgil Sanders is not much of a king-to-be. Surly and sharp-tongued, he spends his days skulking around the castle, keeping to himself. His father Cyril, referred to as “King Deceit” behind closed doors, rules the kingdom through manipulation and fear. Every day his grip grows a little stronger, and the people a little more desperate to be rid of him. Their prince’s inaction has led most to assume that Virgil is complicit in his father’s tyranny, but in truth, the prince is merely a coward. His father scares him, and what could Virgil even do? He has no power of his own, and starting a coup is out of the question: he knows nothing of politics, of people, of how to lead. He would much rather stand safely to the side, hiding in his rooms and only emerging for lessons with his tutor. Let the council keep his father in check. It’s what they’re for, after all.The council, however, is crumbling. The Picani family was the last pillar of resistance, the one house whose representative could always be trusted to push back against the king-- but now that Patton Picani has gone inexplicably silent, King Deceit’s schemes are running unchecked.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be my contribution to the [Storytime Big Bang](http://ts-storytime.tumblr.com/), but I procrastinated and then my life became a tornado, so it wasn't finished in time. That said, the amazing [fandergecko](https://fandergecko.tumblr.com/) still drew [these fantastic pieces](https://fandergecko.tumblr.com/post/177602043525/my-drawings-for-the-ts-storytime-big-bang-my) for my story. Please check them out and give Gecko lots of love!! 
> 
> If you would like, I also created a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1299732067/playlist/0ABBsnXHl81oiF1qjpU1td?si=yM864D4CS8iWTY82xqRenA) for this story-- feel free to give it a listen while you read!

Prince Virgil Sanders was not much of a king-to-be. He was apathetic and lazy, rarely leaving his rooms, and when he graced the rest of the castle with his presence, he was well known for being callous and mean. Luckily, the only person who had the misfortune of interacting with the prince regularly was the royal tutor, Logan — the man often received condolences and sympathies for his burden from the other staff. Meeting his pupil for the first time had been baffling: the boy bore little resemblance to the cold-hearted prince they had warned him about. Virgil had been sharp-tongued and sullen, but he was less a callous and cruel royal than a shy and insecure child.

Virgil’s fearsome reputation was only partially his own doing. His entire life, everyone he met had made assumptions about him based on his father, King Cyril. His own sarcastic nature and social awkwardness did little to stop people from seeing what they expected — a spoiled and cruel prince, the spitting image of their tyrannical king. At twenty-two, Virgil had long since given into his fate and leaned into his unlikable persona, offering glares and scathing banter freely whenever anyone approached him. If no one would give him a chance either way, he might as well give them a reason to hate him.

Not that Virgil could blame anyone for despising his father, nor could he deny the logic behind extending that disdain to him. Most people knew nothing of the prince other than that he was the son of “King Deceit”, the worst tyrant and despot the Kingdom of Mentrias had ever seen. The king ruled with fear and a silver tongue tipped with a thousand lies — brutal shows of force interspersed with rumors of many more, no one able to separate fiction from fact. Over the years the king had wielded coercion, blackmail, and intimidation masterfully until he had quelled almost all dissenting voices, reduced to disgruntled whispers behind closed doors with no real hope of action behind them.

The complete lack of information on Virgil led people to assume that he was complicit. If the prince were against his father wouldn’t he be using his power to oppose the king and help the people? What no one seemed to realize was that Virgil  _ had  _ no power — no official duties, no office, no influence. He saw his father once a week at most, and only then if he couldn’t avoid it. In truth, Virgil was just as scared of the king as the rest of Mentrias. The king ignored him most of the time, and that was how he preferred it. Even if he had had the means, Virgil had no desire to attract his father’s attention by attempting a coup.

As far as he was concerned, it was the council’s job to keep his father in line, not his. The council was made up of representatives from each ruling noble family and had to approve any kingdom-wide law or decree the monarch wished to instate; they had positions and connections with real influence, not merely an empty title like Virgil. Over the years the council had weakened, members becoming less and less likely to speak out, but there was still at least one family that was standing strong against the king. The Picani family was the second most powerful in the kingdom, behind the royals, and had been the de facto leaders of the council since its creation. Their current representative, Patton Picani, was well known for being loved by virtually everyone other than the king himself. He was immensely popular, kind, and charming and had all but single-handedly rallied enough of the council to keep King Deceit’s influence in check.

Virgil liked Patton. At a basic level he had respect for anyone who stood up to his father, but more than that, Patton was one of the few people who had made any attempt to get to know Virgil for himself, and the only person other than Logan who had somewhat broken through his shell. Patton was sweet and always asked about how Virgil was doing and how his studies were going, made a point to wave if they passed each other in the palace halls, and generally gave the appearance of caring about Virgil’s life and well-being.

Virgil had lessons with Logan five hours a day, three days a week inside a small classroom near the library. There were desks for multiple students, but they’d never been used during Virgil’s lifetime. Logan was an excellent teacher with an exacting schedule, though he could easily be prodded into tangents about things that interested him. Virgil’s own attention waxed and waned depending on the subject and how he was feeling, but he liked Logan enough to at least give a token effort, though that didn’t stop him from trying to distract Logan from the more boring topics. He had just gotten Logan off track on their mathematics lesson into an excited rant about astronomy when the door slammed open, startling them both.

“Hey guys!” It was Patton, prompting Logan to pull out his watch and frown in confusion. Patton had a habit of barging in and collecting Logan for dinner if he let time get away from him and kept class going past its designated 5PM end, but Virgil was fairly certain it was only around 4PM — and judging by Logan’s confusion, he was correct.

“Patton, what—” Patton ignored Logan questioning him, closing the door behind him and crossing the room, clamping his hands around one of Logan’s arms. Logan’s brow furrowed further, confusion softening into something more like concern. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy!” Logan looked skeptical, and even Virgil could pick up on the frantic edge to Patton’s voice and the way his eyes would occasionally flit anxiously towards the closed door. “Sorry for interrupting your lesson, kiddo. I just wanted to get away from all the hustle and bustle for a bit and I figured I’d come see my favorite guys!”

“It’s cool, I guess?” Virgil glanced at Logan awkwardly, not knowing what to do in this situation. There was clearly more going on than what Patton was saying, but his teacher seemed to have no more idea than him, simply looking worriedly at his partner — which Patton was pointedly ignoring, continuing to smile as brightly as ever, determined to pretend that nothing was wrong. The two seemed to be in some kind of stalemate; Logan waiting expectantly for an explanation and Patton refusing, leaving Virgil lost and awkward in the middle. Before it could stretch on for too long, however, they were interrupted by the classroom door banging open once more, this time for the angry form of Roman Picani.

“ _ Patton _ , stop trying to avoid—” Roman stopped dead, trailing off as he took in the other occupants of the room he had just barged into — namely, Virgil. His open, angry expression instantly cooled into something more like irritated disdain. It was a look that Virgil found sent his way often, and he instantly scowled right back, sitting up straighter on instinct.

“My apologies for interrupting,  _ your highness. _ ” Roman began with a shallow, slightly exaggerated bow. He truly had a talent for giving Virgil all due reverence while making it abundantly clear just how much he despised the prince. “I was trying to have a word with my uncle and followed him in here without realizing that I would be disturbing  _ you _ .”

“Well, now you know.” Virgil grumbled dismissively, making a show of turning away from Roman and ignoring him, demonstrating that the knight wasn’t worth his time. “Feel free to buzz off.”

When Virgil had first met Roman several months ago, he had been hopeful — Patton was nice to him, so he’d wondered if his nephew might also give him a chance. There was no one at court Virgil’s age — the closest were in Logan’s generation, about 10 years his senior — but Roman had been born the same year as him. The hope of making an actual friend had been tantalizing — and instantly dashed when Roman glared daggers at him before Virgil could so much as greet him. He had shrunk away, hurt and disappointed, though that Roman was the guest of honor at the banquet had meant speaking with him was unavoidable. They’d traded barbs every time they’d seen each other until his father finally allowed Virgil to go back to his room. Roman had left court immediately after the event — the fact that he had apparently returned was news to Virgil.

“Of course,  _ your highness _ . I’ll just collect my uncle and—” Roman took a quick step towards Patton but Virgil stood and cut him off, using his height advantage to glower down at him. For whatever reason, Patton didn‘t want to talk, and Virgil wasn’t about to let Roman drag him off against his will.

“ _ Patton’s  _ welcome to stay. You’re  _ not _ .” Roman stopped in his tracks, an intense, frustrated frown on his face. He glared down the three of them impressively, but neither Virgil nor Logan, who had stepped between Patton and Roman and was giving the knight a stern look himself, budged. Patton was staring awkwardly at his shoes, his grip on Logan’s arm having gone white-knuckled.

“Well then, I suppose my uncle and I can catch up some other time. He certainly can’t keep avoiding me  _ forever _ .” Roman’s attempts to stare down his uncle were rendered mostly ineffective by the fact that Patton had yet to look at him, but it was clear from the way he shuffled more behind Logan that he understood he was the target of Roman’s ire. Logan lifted the arm not being used as a lifeline to give Patton’s hands a reassuring squeeze, still glaring at Roman. Virgil, happy to have been forgotten, took the moment to try and puzzle out what the hell was going on.

As far as he was aware, Patton  _ adored  _ his family. He gushed over his brother and niblings often and with delight, happy to prattle on to anyone who would listen about their virtues and accomplishments. If Patton hadn’t talked to him about it non-stop for over a month, Virgil probably would have never known the banquet he had first met Roman at was being thrown in his honor for capturing the dragon-witch that had been terrorizing southern Mentrias for decades. He’d heard nothing of any bad blood between them, though he had to admit that family issues were hardly appropriate for casual conversation, and even though Patton was one of Virgil’s closest friends, there was no way he considered Virgil the same. Patton got along with people, with  _ everyone _ , and the age difference between them was almost 15 years. Virgil certainly wasn’t eligible to be a confidant.

Logan was his boyfriend, though, and he didn’t seem to know what was going on either — Patton had, in fact, blatantly refused to acknowledge his confusion and concern. Perhaps the avoidance had been due to Virgil’s presence, but if that were the case Patton surely could have communicated that he would explain later, rather than flatly disregarding Logan’s worry. The way that he had plastered on a smile and pretended that everything was normal, even when it so clearly wasn’t, had been more than a little disconcerting.

The door slammed again as Roman stormed out at last, giving Virgil the chance to relax from his posturing and sink back down into his seat and leaving the three in an awkward silence. Patton laughed nervously, guiltily releasing Logan’s arm and shuffling to the side, looking sheepish.

“D-Don’t either of you worry about all of that — Roman’s just got a bit of a temper, is all! He’s still a kiddo and all...” He trailed off, glancing between Logan and Virgil uneasily. Neither of them was buying it, but Patton just laughed again, louder this time, and moved on. “I’ll um, I’ll just hang out in the corner I guess while you guys finish up. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise!” Logan frowned, looking conflicted, pulling out his watch once more and glancing between it, Virgil, and Patton a few times before sighing and putting it away.

“With his highness’ permission, I believe we might as well end today’s lesson early.” Virgil quickly agreed and eagerly put his things away, happy to take the out from the awkward situation and eager to crawl into bed and hide after all the stress. Patton began to protest but Logan just shook his head, cutting his partner off. “It’s alright Patton, I promise. We are losing, at best, 15 more minutes of instruction. It’s better to go to dinner early rather than attempt to restart the lesson now.”

He smiled reassuringly — it was small and awkward but genuine, and Patton returned it tentatively, carefully sliding back into Logan’s personal space. He apologized again regardless, which Logan rebuffed, and within minutes the three had exited the classroom and went their separate ways, Patton enthusiastically waving goodbye to Virgil and wishing him a good night.

Virgil preferred to eat in his rooms alone rather than with his father in his chambers or with the rest of the court in the grand dining room. Occasionally he would be summoned to a public celebration or, rarely and dreadfully, to a private meal with his father where the King would spend hours picking Virgil apart for his every flaw, seemingly for no reason other than his own amusement. Usually, however, no one minded that the prince ordered his meals brought to his rooms — or if they did, they let him do it anyway without complaint.

Before Virgil could make it to his rooms, however, a pair of strong hands roughly grabbed him from behind. One covered his mouth while the other pulled both his thin wrists behind his back, both dragging him backward before Virgil could react. He kicked and thrashed and bit, trying to get away, to run, to call for help — but it was futile. Within a moment his unknown assailant had dragged Virgil into some pointless, disused and sparsely furnished side drawing room. His attacker shoved him face-first into the ground and kicked the door shut behind them. Virgil recovered quickly and flipped over to face them, already scrambling away blindly as he heard a blade being drawn from its sheath.

As unpopular as the king was, an assassin had never penetrated the palace. Virgil’s father would happily recount tales of attempts on his own life and the brutal ways he dealt with them to anyone forced to listen, but everything King Deceit said had to be taken with a grain of salt. Virgil himself had been the target of such a scheme only once, when he was five or so, and the experience had left him motherless and terrified of leaving the safety of the palace walls. His father had forced him out for travel or public appearances only a handful of times in the 17 years since.

“Talk, snake! What have you done to Patton?!” The attacker holding Virgil at sword point did not, however, seem to be an assassin. Instead, Virgil faced Roman; grim, determined, and seemingly furious.

“What? Patton’s  _ fine _ , you were  _ just  _ talking to him—” Roman stepped forward, the point of his sword no longer hovering threateningly in the air but now rather dangerously pressed right against Virgil’s throat. Virgil froze, the fear that had dissipated in the wake of his confusion rushing back with a vengeance.

“Don’t lie to me! I  _ know  _ my uncle — he would never bow to the will of your family’s evil schemes! I’ve been trying to speak with him about it for  _ days  _ and when I’m finally about to get answers,  _ you  _ intimidated him into silence and forced me away!” Roman hissed his wild accusations at Virgil, and the disconnect from reality that the knight seemed to be experiencing was annoying enough that it once again dampened Virgil’s fear. Roman Picani was, apparently, a  _ clueless moron _ .

“I made you leave because Patton had no interest in talking to you! You burst in there accusing him of avoiding you, but now you backtrack and decide it was  _ my  _ fault? It’s not like Patton was  _ surprised  _ to find me there, he picks Logan up for dinner after every class!” Virgil was still very aware of the sharp steel against his throat, and his reply was about as tempered as he could make it. Roman faltered for a moment, but seemed to shake it off, returning to his glare.

“Then  _ why  _ won’t he talk to me,  _ your highness _ ? He’s clearly in some dire straits if he’s been forced under you and your fathers’ black thumbs — why won’t he let his family know how to help? Are you  _ watching  _ him?” Roman, at this point, seemed more distressed and frustrated than angry. He was still directing plenty of vitriol at Virgil, but it had lost its edge.

“What are you  _ talking  _ about?” Virgil had entirely lost the thread of the conversation at this point. Patton was anything but under his father’s thumb. Roman just laughed.

“Don’t play dumb, snake. It’s hardly a  _ secret  _ that the royal family has somehow bent the Picani representative to their whims.” There was a fire in Roman’s eyes as he glared down at Virgil, still prone and vulnerable on the floor. “I’ve had enough of your games. Tell me now or die —  _ what did you do to my uncle? _ ”

Virgil froze. He was hardly up to date with castle politics; he, in fact, made a concerted effort to avoid the subject at all costs. The status quo had been so static his entire life that Virgil had, naively, assumed that things would never change. But if what Roman was saying were true, the entire delicate balance keeping his father at bay was likely to come tumbling down.

“Patton’s not... he’s just letting the king do whatever he wants?” Virgil’s genuine horror at the thought of his father going unchecked overpowered his fear of Roman’s threats, and it must have shown, because for the first time Roman was looking at Virgil with something other than pure malice, his anger tempered at least momentarily by confusion.

“Worse than simply standing by: he’s  _ openly supporting  _ the king’s proposals. The entire  _ kingdom  _ is in a panic thinking our family is in the king’s pocket!” Virgil paled by several shades, mouth falling open slightly in surprise and alarm. Roman stared down at him as if he had grown a second head, flabbergasted. “Are you trying to have me believe you  _ didn’t know  _ what was happening in your own kingdom? In your own  _ palace _ ?”

“I didn’t!” Virgil insisted, a hint of hysteria creeping into his voice as the implications of Patton supporting his father sunk in and brought him dangerously close to panic. He hardly noticed as Roman finally pulled his sword away to point at the floor near his side, his other hand fisting frustratedly in his hair.

“That’s  _ ludicrous _ . I can’t believe such a thing — I  _ don’t  _ believe it.” Despite his words, Roman made no move to threaten Virgil again, instead pacing restlessly in front of the door. “Your involvement with your father and his schemes is  _ common knowledge _ ! You  _ have  _ to know what’s going on!” Roman looked at Virgil, frustrated, almost pleading, but the prince had no answers to give.

“Look, I know everyone thinks we’re just alike, but I hate him as much as you. I didn’t even know something was happening — much less  _ why  _ it’s happening or why Patton won’t talk to you.” Virgil stood up at last, slowly, to make sure that Roman didn’t stab him. He seemed to have lost much of his murderous intent, now looking stricken and confused, but better safe than sorry. Virgil could tell that Roman wasn’t sure if he believed him, but he had at least planted enough doubt that Roman wasn’t sure how to proceed. Virgil was lost himself on that front — he hovered awkwardly on the other side of the room, eyeing Roman’s still-drawn sword with apprehension.

“So what, then? I attacked the prince and will probably get executed for nothing?” Roman finally sheathed his weapon, though he still regarded Virgil with no small amount of suspicion. “Assuming you’re telling the truth at all.”

“Believe whatever you want, I still don’t know anything.” Virgil wrapped his arms around himself, feeling better now that Roman was no longer immediately armed, but still not liking that the sword-wielding idiot was between him and the door and still rattled from the news about Patton. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about this, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Roman seemed even more skeptical about  _ that _ , hesitating a moment, conflicted. Eventually though, he nodded and stepped to the side, giving Virgil an egress he immediately took, eager to escape before the deranged knight could change his mind.

“I suppose I’ll be finding out how trustworthy you are shortly, your highness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Apparently the line where Virgil told Roman to leave during the classroom scene got deleted without my noticing. It didn't ruin the story, but it did make Roman's "of course I'll leave" line seem jarring and out of place. I've added it back in!
> 
> EDIT 2: It's inevitable to find errors after you post with any story, but I'm a little disappointed in myself for the number of errors towards the end of the chapter. I had been really busy and I wanted to knock out the last few paragraphs quickly and it really shows. I've smoothed out a bunch of them, but I'm sure I'll continue to find more. (I also sneakily rearranged some stuff.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time, no see. I'm sorry for taking so long to get this up — at first I was working pretty steadily at it, and then my life went to hell, but from Christmas onward I admit I've just been a little lazy. But I promised myself I would get this out before the end of winter break, and I have! Even if it is absolutely last minute. I hope you enjoy!

Confirming what Roman had said about Patton suddenly siding with his father wasn’t hard. It was, in fact, embarrassingly easy — while no one talked to Virgil, especially not about their fear of his father’s growing power, the sudden compliance of the Picani representative seemed to be all they were talking about to anyone else. The only thing Virgil had had to do was listen, instead of carefully tune out the whispered conversations that abruptly halted whenever people noticed him walking by. It was no wonder that Roman had been skeptical.

Which left Virgil with an uncomfortable, guilty knot in his stomach. He considered Patton a friend, but either Roman was right, and Virgil somehow hadn’t noticed that his friend was under duress and suffering, or Patton wasn’t as good a person as Virgil, Roman, and _everyone_ had believed. While Patton had acted suspicious and evasive the last time they’d spoken, none of their prior interactions had raised any flags. He’d been seeing less of Patton, admittedly, but he had chalked it up to Patton’s new relationship with Logan. Virgil had known from the beginning that eventually Patton would realize he had better things to do than spend time with a useless prince, but that hadn’t made it sting any less the first time Patton had let a conversation peter out at pleasantries, not bothering to dig past Virgil’s grumbled, perfunctory non-answers to the small talk. The idea that he’d been so busy sulking over losing scraps of attention he’d never deserved that he’d missed some sign of distress made Virgil sick, but it still seemed more likely than Patton willingly submitting to his father.

He was at a total loss about what he could do about it, though — trying to talk was getting Roman nowhere fast and Virgil knew if Patton wouldn’t talk to his nephew, he probably wouldn‘t speak with anyone, much less him. This restless, helpless feeling was why Virgil avoided politics in the first place — he was powerless, no matter how much he agonized over things and mentally tortured himself. There was nothing he could do now and likely nothing he could have done earlier to prevent it, but now that he knew, the _what if_ s haunted him relentlessly. _What if_ there had been something he could have done if he’d just payed attention instead of shutting everything out? _What if_ in his pathetic ploy to spare his own feelings, he’d allowed his father to gain greater power? No matter how much Virgil doubted that, he’d never know for sure, and the uncertainty was ripping him to pieces. He’d spent the past two days stewing, staring blankly at the ceiling for hours at a time while his thoughts ran in concentric spirals of guilt and fear and self-loathing.

A knock at his bedroom door startled Virgil out of his ruminating, rocketing his anxiety up a few notches as he stared at it warily. He hadn’t asked for food or anything else brought to him, which meant that the knock was almost certainly a summons from his father. He dreaded such a thing even under normal circumstances, but right now the thought of having to face the king was unbearable. The person at the at the door, most likely a guard, knocked again, a little louder this time. Virgil reluctantly dragged himself over to open it.

“Your highness,” The guard bowed in greeting and Virgil gave a soft, distracted hum of acknowledgement, focusing on appearing calm even as his grip went white-knuckled on the other side of the doorknob, waiting for the announcement that his father was requesting his presence. “Ser Roman Picani wishes an audience with you. Will you see him?”

It took Virgil a moment to process the words, blinking a few times in utter confusion. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Roman since the knight had basically kidnapped and interrogated him at sword point. What he could want now, Virgil had no idea.

“...Sure.” He finally answered, noticeably uncertain despite himself. That Roman had come to his room, spoken to his guards, and formally requested an audience implied that this meeting would be less dramatic and life-threatening, at least, but all the confusion and uncertainty were wreaking havoc on Virgil’s already frayed nerves.

“I’ll show him into the drawing room, your highness.” The guard bowed again and then turned and left, presumably to fetch Roman from wherever he was waiting. Virgil shut the door quickly and scrambled to make himself presentable. He’d been laying on his bed worrying himself to death for the better part of three days now and it showed in his appearance. He didn’t have time to do much other than run a brush through his hair, straighten his clothes to the best of his ability, and throw his cloak on overtop to hide the wrinkles, but it would have to do.

He trudged into his small private drawing room briskly, doing his best to stand up straight and project some amount of confidence rather than the stomach-churning anxiety he was actually feeling. Roman was standing by the unlit fireplace, arms crossed defensively, while the guard Virgil had spoken to earlier kept a blithe eye on him from the door. Without a fire the room was chilly, and briefly Virgil felt bad for making the two of them wait, though he had tried his best to rush. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bothered going in here, if he ever had — he’d never had guests to entertain before, and found his bedroom more than sufficient for lounging around by himself in.

“Your highness.” Roman greeted him a little stiffly with a quick half-bow, but while he didn’t seem happy, the knight wasn’t mocking or radiating disdain the way he had when he’d greeted Virgil in the classroom a few days ago.

“Ser Roman.” Virgil returned somewhat awkwardly, still not sure what was happening and doing a poor job of hiding it. Roman rose from his bow and pursed his lips, subtly nodding towards the guard at the door. It took Virgil a moment to realize what he was getting at, but once he understood he hesitated. Though the attempted courtesy was making Virgil increasingly certain that Roman didn’t intend to attack him this time, the request still set off alarms. He was curious, though, and he knew if all else failed his guards would still be within shouting distance. He turned towards the one who had stationed themself in the room and waved vaguely at the door.

“You can go.” Virgil dismissed them, sounding more confident than he felt. The guard bowed and exited, returning to their post in the hall. Roman’s tense posture relaxed by a fraction once they were alone, his stiff, carefully blank expression turning into a puzzled frown as he looked Virgil over consideringly, seeming to search for what to say.

“I admit, I didn’t expect you to keep your word.” He finally spoke after letting out an exasperated sigh. “I knew letting you go would be a mistake, even as I did it. That I am not currently rotting in the dungeon or dead...vexes me.”

“So, what? You’re so sure I’m evil you’re _mad_ I didn’t rat you out?” Virgil huffed indignantly, glaring down at Roman. Already he regretted agreeing to the audience, resisting the urge to hunch into his cloak defensively. What he had been expecting, he didn’t know, but Virgil wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated about Roman’s conspiracy theories again. Whatever wild excuse the knight had invented to justify Virgil’s behavior, he didn’t want to hear it. “Why didn’t you kill me then, if you were so sure? Did you just want to prove your point?”

“No!” Roman scowled, uncrossing his arms to throw his hands up in a dramatic display of annoyance. “I didn’t — you _seemed_ so genuine. I knew you had to be lying and that I shouldn’t waiver simply because you were preternaturally good at it, but I couldn’t take the risk you were innocent, so I stood down. I’ve since been cursing myself for my noble weakness, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but _nothing_ has happened!”

Roman hurled the last sentence like an accusation, and Virgil could feel his temper building. He was so tired of being treated like an extension of his father. This kind of shit was exactly why he’d learned to play into people’s expectations so they ignored him instead of bothering to  prove them wrong — no one ever listened. It was impossible to win, but Virgil would take being lonely over having complete strangers make grand speeches about his vile soul to his face any day. He grit his teeth, preparing to tell Roman to _fuck off_ and have him escorted away when Roman interrupted him.

“ _Ugh_ , no, wait. This...this isn’t coming out right.” He grimaced and fisted his hair frustratedly, seeming to sense that he had pushed Virgil away. “You’re not...acting how I expected you too. Perhaps that’s because this is some kind of grand conspiracy to gain my trust, as my common sense is telling me it must be, but _perhaps_ it’s because things — because _you_ — are not as I believe.” Roman said this second possibility with great pain, deepening his grimace and looking to the side instead of at Virgil directly.

“Though I am loath to admit it...I’m stuck. Patton won’t talk to me, and no one else knows what’s going on. It’s that desperation that led to the admittedly _rash_ decision of attacking you. A mistake you, for whatever reason, have allowed to go unpunished. You said you hated your father, that you were unaware of his influence over my uncle. I’m not sure if I believe you, but I’m willing to hear your explanation.” Roman finished his proclamation by turning to Virgil expectantly, hands resting on his hips.

Virgil bristled at Roman‘s audacity. He was under no obligation to prove that he wasn’t evil, especially when the knight seemed to be humoring him more than anything else. The arrogance of him showing up to announce that he would _consider_ the _possibility_ that Virgil was _maybe_ a decent person was downright comical, and proof that the knight was still deeply entrenched in his belief that Virgil was evil to the core and undeserving of basic human decency. Even if Virgil tried to explain, he doubted Roman would listen in good faith, suspecting that he was more seeking justification for his position and to ease his own conscience than a better understanding. And yet the sad, desperately lonely part of him that had hoped to befriend Roman when they’d first met and flinched every time someone glared at him just for existing, was overjoyed. Roman, as pompous, self-righteous and condescending as he was being, was offering more than anyone other than Patton and Logan had ever bothered to.

“What do you want from me?” Virgil asked, unsure if he sounded bitter or hopeful, still fighting with himself. “I can’t give you proof I’m not lying, if you really believe this is an ‘elaborate scheme’, or whatever.”

“Just _explain_ , then.” Roman tapped his foot impatiently, annoyed by Virgil’s reluctance. “You claimed to be wholly unaware that anything was amiss with Patton. How? Even if you are not party to whatever fell influence has been cast over my uncle, it’s impossible you didn’t at least _know_.”

“I didn’t know because no one _told_ me.” Virgil snapped, hackles going up instinctively. He could _feel_ Roman’s incredulity from across the room, but he kept going regardless. “People don’t want to talk to me about the _weather_ , much less politics. They avoid me and stop talking when I walk by, but they’ve _always_ done that, so I thought everything was status quo. The only person who may have mentioned it would have been Patton, and _that_ wasn’t happening.” Virgil knew he was being defensive, but he’d been eating himself alive over not realizing already — he didn’t need Roman chiming in.

“What do you _mean_ people don’t talk to you? You’re the _prince_ .” Roman demanded, frustrated, scowling up at Virgil and crossing his arms once more. “I’m _eighth_ in line for my father’s title and I still have responsibilities when I’m at home — running a single province, much less the entire _kingdom_ , is nothing _but_ talking to people!”

“I don’t _run_ anything!” Virgil’s frustration finally boiled over, sick of the assumptions and misinformation Roman expected him to answer for. He felt like crying, hot tears threatening to spill over, but he refused to do so in front of Roman. “I’m just a fucking _decoration_ for my dad to bring out when he feels like it, someone to laugh at and intimidate, when he remembers I exist! I don’t have a _job_ , or, or _influence_. I just go to class and hide in my room and try to keep my head down so he doesn‘t have any more reasons to notice me.”

Roman seemed stunned, blinking slowly at Virgil from across the room, trying to process what he’d just heard. Virgil crossed his arms and slumped inwards, outburst over, though he still felt raw inside, frustrated and very ready for this conversation to be over. He regretted ever answering the door, and resented himself for each time he’d ignored his better judgement telling him not to bother with this charade in favor of the naïve hope that maybe, for once, someone would _listen_.

“So, what, that’s _fine_ with you? ‘Keeping your head down’ while your people suffer?” Roman’s accusatory tone broke through Virgil’s brooding, the knight seeming to bristle with barely contained anger. Virgil’s hands curled into fists where they tucked into his elbows — this _moron_ just didn’t _get it_.

“I can’t _do_ anything! I _told_ you--” He began, but was immediately cut off, the words only seeming to further inflame Roman.

“Just because your father didn’t _give_ you influence doesn’t mean you couldn’t have _created_ it!” The knight snapped, stamping his foot for emphasis. “Instead, you _sulked_ and let everyone build you up as some evil figure — clearly, such assumptions were far too flattering! You’re so spoiled and _lazy_ that you’d just sit around and _mope_ while your father slaughters people in the streets and manipulates over half of the court to get away with it! For heaven’s sake, at least if you’d been part of it you would have been _doing_ something! Instead, you’re just _flippant_ and saying that there’s nothing you can do to make excuses for it!”

Roman was practically apoplectic, red-faced and fuming, and Virgil felt like someone had slapped him across the face. Roman had said nothing strictly _wrong_ — just things that assumed Virgil to be much braver and more charismatic than he was. Roman made it sound so _easy_ , and from where the knight was standing it likely was. He had been raised in a large, loving family and been socialized properly; he hadn’t seen his mother take a crossbow bolt in the heart at five and spent the rest of his life terrified of everyone and everything around him; he had never had to deal with an entire country deciding they hated him without ever giving him a chance. It wasn‘t Virgil’s _fault_ he didn‘t have the tools and social skills that Roman was suddenly demanding of him.

 _More excuses,_ his internal voice whispered, and maybe it was right. Maybe he was just as pathetic as everyone thought, and he’d been deluding himself this whole time. It didn‘t mean he had to have it rubbed in his face.

“Get out.” Virgil ordered, glaring down at Roman and pointing dramatically to the door as he blinked back tears. His emotions were all over the place — swinging wildly between anger and guilt and self-loathing and _hurt_.

“No.” Roman crossed his arms defiantly, jutting his chin out and refusing to budge.

“I said  _get out_ .” Virgil repeated through grit teeth, clenching his fists to keep his hands from visibly shaking. He didn’t want to call his guards to drag Roman away, but if the knight thought Virgil would stand there and let himself be a verbal punching bag, he had another thing coming. He just wanted to be _alone_ — hadn’t the knight hurt him enough? Virgil wasn’t that good of an actor, Roman _knew_ his words had cut deep. There wasn’t any reason to keep kicking him while he was down, other than to be a self-righteous prick.

“And I said _no_ .” Roman refused again, fixing Virgil with an intense, unyielding stare. “If I leave, you’ll keep allowing your father to commit atrocities without so much as raising a finger to stop him, just like every other cowardly statesman who courts evil to save their own skin. If you mean what you say — if you truly wish for someone to stop your father — _help me_.”

“Help..?” Virgil’s arm slowly lowered from where it was pointing at the door as he reeled from yet another incident of emotional whiplash at the hands of Roman Picani. Their entire conversation had been a whirlwind of highs and lows, but Virgil was once again feeling a spark of hope.

Something inside him shrieked and recoiled from the idea, however. It would _never_ work. Roman was brash and foolish — his father had eyes and ears everywhere, and Virgil suspected that the king was already _well_ aware of the knight’s mission to rescue his uncle. Worse, the guards and who knew else had witnessed Roman entering Virgil’s rooms — if that information got back to his father, Virgil would be under heavy scrutiny. Roman had put _him_ in danger, recklessly, likely without even thinking about the potential consequences of his actions. He was an idiot who would get himself killed, and if Virgil had _any_ sense, he would distance himself from Roman as much and as fast as possible.

Virgil must have had none, because even as his rationality and fear  _ screamed _ at him, he knew he would never do such a thing. If he were that person, he would have had Roman thrown in the dungeon days ago.Virgil didn’t want Roman imprisoned or dead — as arrogant, pompous, and insufferable as the knight was, he was also a  _ good person _ . And maybe,  _ maybe  _ if Virgil were with him, he could keep the knight safe. He could make up for his failure to notice anything amiss with Patton until it was too late.

“How?” Virgil asked, hesitantly, pulling his arms in close. “I told you — I don’t have connections, or information about what he’s planning. I hardly speak to my father.”

“You still know him better than anyone else in the kingdom, I wager.” Roman’s eyes had lit up, all fire and determination and _hope_ . Virgil wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable with the weight of inspiring those emotions. “And I could use another set of eyes, another mind to bounce ideas off of — it will help. _You_ will help, Virgil.”

Roman grinned and extended his hand to Virgil, who was still reeling from hearing Roman call him by name. Only his father used it regularly — Logan would occasionally, when he was exasperated, but no one else. Virgil hadn‘t realized that Roman knew it. Hesitantly, slowly, he reached out and clasped the knight‘s hand in return.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading-- if you could take the time to leave a comment or a kudos, I would really appreciate it. Again, please check out Gecko's [amazing artwork](https://fandergecko.tumblr.com/post/177602043525/my-drawings-for-the-ts-storytime-big-bang-my) for this story. They've been infinitely patient and a great friend, and I don't think I could have gotten this story out, even late, without them.
> 
> Feel free to follow/message me on [tumblr](http://yamiaainferno.tumblr.com/)! My inbox is broken, so I may be slow to respond to asks, but messaging still works.


End file.
